A Not As Lonely Christmas
by donau
Summary: Draco leads a different life many years after leaving Hogwarts. One year his Christmas routine gets disturbed by a certain redhead.


**Title: A (Not As) Lonely Christmas**

**Author:** Flying Owl

**Pairing:** Ron/Draco

**  
Rating:** mild NC-17 (maybe R)

**Summary:** Draco leads a different life many years after leaving Hogwarts. One year his Christmas routine gets disturbed by a certain redhead.

**Warnings:** Slash

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Notes:** A huge "THANKS" to my betas writerazzie and seraphinasnape (both on live journal) who hadn't had an easy job!

**A (Not As) Lonely Christmas**

It was another Christmas – another _lonely_ Christmas – after leaving Hogwarts, and with that his family and heritage, over 10 years back. Christmas never used to be a cheerful occasion – why had others been excited going home? What for?

Had it felt differently, then? It must have, when he remembered the Christmas break during his fifth or sixth year he thought happiness, something he could not understand today – had it been the presents? Surely not the broom handle made of Griffin-leather with cut diamonds that formed an arrow in direction of his destination. The leather had been slippery and the brilliants had cut into his hands after a long broom ride. Why else could he have liked it? The stiff dinner on Christmas Day with father's friends and relatives – they did not see him as the child he was at that time – or maybe they did not show how they felt at all, because of their plans for him. Hell, he had been smoking heavy Havana's and drinking Cognac at the tender age of 15 – guided by his father.

There had been a young witch; at one of the annual Christmas parties, a year or two younger than him, that he would stay in contact with years later. At said party the teenager had been dolled up to look like an adult – judged by the dress under her robes and make-up. At that time he thought she had been there for his amusement. He had enjoyed using her willing form at that time. Years later he had learned that the girl had been broke by the men, including him, she was presented to. He had bumped into her at St. Mungo's where she had been for a last check-up, before turning her back on the Wizarding World and England all together. Today, he envied her for "becoming" a regular Muggle student at some university in continental Europe. She had found the peace he was still looking in his life and had set an example, he never dared to follow.

Draco had been too much of a coward – he should have left the Wizarding World, when he still had the chance.

At 28 he could not afford a new life in a different world anymore. He had a successful life now, but it had never been easy. Voldemort had disappeared as well as Harry Potter, shortly after his graduation – no one knew whether they were dead or just in different sphere – were battling wizard could exist for many decades and centuries before there struggle settled.

That's when Draco saw his chance to change his life, by turning his back on the Dark Arts. Even after breaking with his parents, he was still provided with a little 'apanage' to finish his education. He had never joined the Death Eaters, he wasn't one to use violence, but neither did he support Dumbledore – he stood alone, even then.

His first year at Oxford's Medi-Wizard-School had been the loneliest time in his life. Fellow students feared his name and avoided him. The professors gave him at least a chance by being cool and neutral. During his third semester he had stumbled on Hermione Granger in Anatomy lesson. She loathed him, but wasn't afraid of him. In the course of another semester they had to meet several times on various projects and even studied together. Draco couldn't explain their relationship, but he started to trust and rely on Hermione – she was honest – even though Draco was often on the receiving end of criticism. It was one of Draco's happiest moments when she first revered to him as a friend.

Not much had changed over the last years; Draco was now a Healer at St. Mungo's. He was happy in his job and got a certain recognition he never had in his life before. He was just an assistant-paediatric-surgeon, but he still got presents from happy parents every Christmas.

This Christmas was no exception. He had to floo back to the Hospital twice to get all the packages home – some of them would be given to nice neighbours or the few friends, others he kept for himself – like good wine or even dress-robes and, of course, Mrs. Jacob's socks. She knitted five pairs for Draco every year since he assisted in the appendix-treatment of her grandson four years ago.

At four in the afternoon all packages were sorted and some re-wrapped, but those would have to wait until after the holidays. He had nothing to do anymore; his friends had left town to be with their families. Instead of staying at home and reading he favoured to get out, meet people and have trivial fun – again as every year.

It was cold, the snow did not melt right away, but the ground was still too warm so he walked with heavy boots through the slush. When reaching his destination, he cleaned off the boots and stepped into the elegant restaurant and bar – "Galileo." The clients were usually sophisticated and gay, a good and discrete place for picking someone up. He did not go here often, no more than a handful times each year, but every Christmas.

It was quite a busy evening, a lot of couples or small parties, even a lot of women were present. His outer robe had been taken off and given to a waiter while he headed to the bar. Young Mr. Malfoy took a seat in a dark corner so he could check-out his possibilities without being too obvious. Five others were doing for the same. One he knew from other occasions, another did not look trustworthy and two were almost twice as old. Draco settled for a tall, brown-haired wizard, his tie indicating Muggle connections.

Draco flirted with the handsome man from across the room - James, as he would learn later, until he came over. He was quite pleasant, so they decided on having Christmas dinner together. When the dessert was served James had one hand permanently on Draco's knee or thigh. Dessert and a sherry later said hand drew closer to Draco's more sensitive regions. A few whispered sentences, in which the arrangements were made, later they left for Malfoy's flat. It was a short walk, interrupted by kisses and touches. At home, he served a glass of whiskey, which would never be touched.

There was no point in feigning politeness – the only reason James was there was sex – so Draco settled on the couch close to James. Sweet nothings whispered in each other's ear and kisses were exchanged, his arousal was stroked by James' strong fingers through his trousers. Draco's lips travelled down the other man's neck, while his fingers were busy opening the buttons of the starched shirt. Soon, he was caressing the other's chest and belly, often interrupted by moans - James' hand had found its way into Draco's trousers. He did not realise when his trousers and underwear were taken off – he only came back to his senses when warm lips wrapped around his aroused manhood…

A few hours later, Draco was awoken by a hooting owl. He untangled himself from James and opened the window. Iphigenie, a Hogwarts barn owl, dropped the letter and left. He knew what it was – an invitation for lunch on Boxing Day, also an annual event. He reminded himself that he should be there a bit earlier than usually, to lend a helping hand, since the Snapes were busy with their 8-month-old twins. He lit the fireplace and snuggled closer to James – searching for the warmth of another body, of another person, of love. Love – he had not found it yet. How was he supposed to find something he did not know? Had he loved someone? – Maybe. Had he been loved and desired? – Not likely. After all who would do such a thing when the Malfoy name was well known and feared!

A year later…

Draco woke up from the crackling wood in the fireplace at four o'clock on Christmas morning. It was a Christmas like any other, with one or two exceptions. Getting laid had not been as easy as the year before – "Galileo" had been crowded again, but singles had been rare – the only one fitting had been a reminder of his past – a well-hated reminder.

The redhead had not seen and recognised Draco, yet. So the blond decided on nursing his loneliness with a whiskey or two, but stayed in a dark niche of the restaurant. He just could not go back home. His apartment was worse than the possibility of being discovered. He did not care whether his homosexuality was known or not, but he did not need the Weasel to find out.

He had been successful at keeping the Weasel and anybody else away. He did not feel anyone besides him as he rolled over to the other side of the couch – yes, he was alone. Draco stood up, went to the window and opened it – he was expecting Iphigenie. As if called she appeared in the clear night-sky. He took the note, went over to the armchair by the fire and read the short message, written by an unfamiliar hand. The Boxing Day Invitation was from Helena, Snape's wife. Draco could not help himself but chuckle. Snape was getting soft in his old days, and had been "setting up the miniature train and railway system the twins were far too young for".

Only then he realised the odd twinges in parts of his body. He hurt, certain parts were sorer than others and why did he transfigure the couch when he was alone instead of sleeping in his own bed. Had he brought someone with him last night? He cursed "Galileo's" home-distilled whiskey; he should have known that he would not take the 59 proof well. Draco only worried about whom he had taken to bed… He did not expect it to be the Weasel, that one would have celebrated such a personal victory of "screwing Malfoy". Maybe it was just a waiter.

Since the man in question had already left, the young Malfoy went back to the sofa and to sleep, he would worry another time, if he would worry at all.

Draco woke up at ten on Christmas, after leaving his bed, oh well, the couch; he spotted one single Christmas present under the tree. Turning around he grabbed his dressing gown before sitting down with the presents to open it. After unwrapping the little box, he knew its origin – a picture drawn by little children and several bottles of various potions – against flu and headache, others just for fun – like a blue-hair-solution (lasting two hours) or long-nose-draught.

Draco carried his present to the table and took his wand to transfigure the pseudo bed back into a sofa. The process started, stopped, and the couch returned to its "bed-mode". That was something new. Was it him, or had there been another problem? After the third try, he checked first his wand, then his ability and at last for some magical interference. Successful, he spotted a source of magic right under a pillow – what could that be? He did not use magical items besides his wand. Draco checked the object under the pillow for curses, but found none. So he looked himself and discovered a wand.

At least it clarified the last evening as much that he knew now he had not come home alone. He picked up the wand and thought about flooing Ollivander. The wand-maker certainly would have an idea as to who the owner of the wand was, but when Draco examined the wooden stick closer he felt a carving close to the handle. A wine-glass they must have used the night before came in handy. He transfigured it into a magnifying glass and held it up to the handle of the mystery wand. He did not like the words he read; it came close to a Worst Case Scenario: Ronald B. Weasley.

His first instinct was to snap the wand, of course he could not do it, but he would have loved to. Then he decided on doing nothing; if Weasley was not a coward, he would come. Finally, Draco settled for the last idea – flooing him at the Burrow. He was pretty sure Weasel had yet to come out, so why not pestering him a little, indicating the truth about their little one-night-stand, but not quite saying it…He needed some kind of revenge for last night's actions, anyway.

He threw the powder into his fireplace and called "The Burrow" and after a few seconds a familiar, but not red-headed person appeared.

"Hermione," Draco greeted.

"Ah, hello, Draco. I was about to floo you. How did you know I was here?"

"Actually, I didn't want to speak to you, but to your sidekick."

"Ron? Hey, and do not call him that!" Hermione stood stiff, hands on her hips, before she turned her head and said into the room, "Ginny, can you tell Ron that he is needed here?"

Draco hears the youngest Weasley reply, "Sure."

"Erm, Draco, have you heard from your godfather? Helena wrote something about him being not himself."

Draco just snorted and replied, "One could put it this way, Granger, I prefer he lost his mind – he is playing conductor."

Hermione Granger looked at him quizzically. So Draco continued.

"Helena wrote he got a train and railway system for Dante and Desdemona, he set it up, and got a little lost in his lacking childhood experience with miniature trains.

"You are joking, right? This can't be happening – the twins are not even two! Wow, he is getting really soft!"

"Don't tell him, or worse, the Weasleys, he'll have you for lunch! Some weeks ago at Hogwarts I mentioned something about him being 'more relaxed' and he almost hexed me and took house points from everyone who gave him the tiniest reason, including the Slytherins."

"Hey, look who's coming. Ron, what's the matter?" Hermione ask. Said redhead stepped into the picture besides her, the freckled face showing his unease.

"Malfoy, what do you want?" The words were more croaked than spoken.

Hermione stopped him: "Hey, Ron, relax, it's not the girl you spent the night with, only good old Draco." It was obvious that she had only been teasing, not knowing she had hit a spot.

Ron's face got redder, if possible. He could not even look in the direction of the fireplace; instead he inspected his fingernails and the quill in his hands.

Draco, of course, enjoyed his bed partner's misery.

"No, little Ronniekins has found himself a girlfriend! I always suspected him to prefer the Y-chromosome a little more!" At those words, Ron snapped the quill, but did not seem to realise it at all – he just stared at Draco with narrowed eyes.

"Malfoy, I don't care what you think. What do you want?" Ron snarled. Hermione only raised an eyebrow at Ron's strange behaviour.

"Bingo," Draco thought. That was a situation he had dreamed of – being a Malfoy he would enjoy what was coming next! Playing innocent…

"Why, I expected you to be pleased to get your wand back. You must have forgotten it; I only found it this morning under the pillow."

Now Draco leaned back and was amused by the following show.

Hermione, at first, seemed a little at not understanding what Draco had been implying, only when the words had sunk in she could do nothing, but gape like a fish. If Draco was honest with himself, he admitted he kind of felt sorry for her – she was such a control freak and the situation had just gone out of her hands.

He did not feel sorry for Ron at all, who sat there speaking ridiculous explanation no one was listening to him.

"Erm, wait, I have been there just for a short while you know, later I went to that bar over in, er… You know, that one by the Whiskey distillery, you know, and there I met there this girl, Eva, er, she had brown curls, you know…Ginny, I told you, didn't I? Ginny!"

His younger sister must have listened to him; she stopped laughing for a few second only to mention, "Before breakfast you told me that _Emma_ had _blonde_ hair!"

Of course, the rest of the Weasley family heard that ruckus. Draco decided to break the floo connection, before the situation turned. He did not expect it to turn against him, but last night's bed-partner was furious.

Draco retreated to his own kitchen for some coffee and a piece of chocolate cake. His conscience came back to life and he had a bad feeling; somehow he felt sorry for Ron. What if his family did not take the news too well? He had wanted to embarrass him, but had overdone it. What if he had destroyed Ron's life?

At least he would hear what was going on at the Burrow when he went to Hogwarts for dinner on Boxing Day.

Draco had hoped to hear any news from the Burrow at Hogwarts, but Hermione avoided him purposely. By dinner he feared, he had to apologise to make Hermione talk to him again. It went so far that even Snape himself asked what the problem was. Draco did not say anything much to his former professor's annoyance.

When he left Snape's Rooms near the DADA classroom to return home, Hermione was waiting for him in the Entrance Hall of the castle. She was angry and obviously trying to get a grip on herself.

"How dare you! What possessed you yesterday? I know you hate Ron, but he left you alone, he even tolerated my friendship to you! Tell me, what has he done to deserve such malice?"

Draco had to swallow the knot that was forming in his throat. He feared what was coming – Hermione Granger had become a very important friend to him and he feared to lose their friendship.

"Look, Hermione, I am sorry!"

"Oh, that's just great, Mr. Malfoy, you are only sorry for yourself!"

Draco certainly had not expected it to be that bad. He wondered silently whether it really was true, what Hermione had said, and came to the conclusion that it was. Draco worried more about his friendship to Hermione and reputation than anything.

"I know!" he answered.

"You know what?" Hermione seemed surprised.

"Never mind, I did not want to expose him, never, well, in this case it had not been my intention. I just wanted to make him a little nervous."

"Congratulations, you succeeded, he was more than nervous! How did it happen, anyway?" Hermione's curiosity got the better of her.

"I don't remember!"

His friend looked at him questionable, he continued.

"I know it sounds crazy but don't remember. I saw him at "Galileo's" and avoided him, then I had a shot of their homemade fire whiskey and everything from then on is blank. When I woke up I thought I had spent the night alone and that's when I found his wand. I guess I couldn't deal with it." He made puppy-eyes at Hermione; it was not an act, but true emotion – hope.

A tiny smile graced her features

"I know you have the tendency to act first and think later." She sounded defeated and Draco smiled at her, knowing he was forgiven.

"Was it that bad? I mean, he hasn't had more inconveniences, has he?"

"Inconvenience – what a word…He still lives at the Burrow, if that is what you mean?"

"So he is fine?"

"I wonder if you really care. He is not fine, everyone is mad at him, including me – for not trusting us – that is about the main problem. He has been alone since yesterday; everyone has to figure how to deal with it." It seemed to be an honest answer.

****

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Eight years later…

Draco awoke with a start. He turned around and listened – nothing.

Sleep had not come as easily as usually after having had dinner at "Galileo's" the day before. "Galileo's" reminded him of Christmas seven years ago:

_Draco stepped into the restaurant as every Christmas Eve, and headed to the bar, not really caring whether he would see anyone he knew or not. He only stopped dead when he recognized a certain redhead – no one he wanted to meet. Not here, not anywhere._

_Draco turned and headed back to the entrance; Ronald Weasley did not need to see him. If Draco was honest, he still had a bad feeling about last year's events. He had heard from Hermione that Ron had not had an easy time._

_After stepping out into the cold rain he decided to go for a small walk before returning home. He thought he might leave this night and visit the Snapes; he did not want to wake up in a cold and lonely flat. After a bit more than 300 metres he heard steps behind him. At first he did not worry, but that person seemed to follow him, no matter which turn he took. Worse, Draco feared turning around, he did not want to meet anyone from his past – he feared his father's exclusive club._

_After another 700 metres and he was almost running, the unknown man (he did not expect a woman) still behind him, still coming closer. His right hand grabbed the wand he held hidden in the pocket of his robes. His heartbeat sped up; he heard it louder than the steps behind him._

_He felt a hand on his shoulder and heard the word "Stop!" Draco did not turn around, he knew he was not in immediate danger, or at least he hoped so. He calmed down a little. None of the two men moved or even spoke for several long moments. _

_The other man spoke first, only one single word: "Why?"_

_Then again – Silence. The rain grew stronger and if possible even colder. _

_"I do not know," he answered after a while._

_"You don't know what?" The words were said in bitterness. Draco felt the anger behind every spoken word._

_"I don't know why I did it. I wanted to provoke you, but not…." _

_He heard the snort and those whispered words that would follow him along time._

_"Good reason for destroying my life!"_

_Draco knew he could not run away, not this time. He acted according to the phrase "Attack is the best defence" and drew air heavily._

_"Please, follow me." Draco stepped forward. His follower was still behind him, his hand leaving his shoulder, but never losing contact with either his arm or back._

_They walked to Draco's house, two blocks away, went up the four flights of stairs and entered his flat. Draco guided his 'guest' into the living room, and offered, "Wine? Coffee? Tea?"_

_"Tea, herbal tea, if you have," the redhead said taking the offered seat in the armchair by the fire. _

_Draco returned with the tea, a coffee for himself and cookies. He sat down on his couch, which was not transformed into a bed this Christmas. Both sipped there drinks and stared into the fire, not a syllable was spoken. The two men were deeply absorbed in thought. Draco was not sure how he should react; should he ignore Ron or should he apologise._

_"You know, somehow I'm even grateful. I mean, I wouldn't have told anyone myself, at least not so soon. Maybe it was for the better to let them know. Still their pestering," Ron had started to admits out of the blue. _

_He snorted. "You know, Ginny is nosy; she wants to know every last embarrassing detail. I can't even talk to another guy without being suspected. Last week she lost it completely and asked Harry whether he ever had an affair with me – Harry! Well, and Mum, she asks my opinion on every man she likes – just in case. She is also worried about grandchildren."_

_Now even Draco smiled._

Draco could not remember much more from that night, only that they had started drinking that nice French liquor and the headache they had had the next day.

He stood up. It would be time for Iphigenie by now – the owl, as every year, came, let him undo the note and disappeared into the night. The Boxing Day Invitation was written by Helena; this year Snape was busy watching the twins with their new brooms.

When he was about to snuggle back under the covers and against his lover, he heard the soft bells. The sound belonged to a bell charm, recognising certain movements in his bedroom.

Draco took his wand, just in case something was amiss. When entering the room he lit the small lamp at his bedside table and blue and green and yellow elephants started to dance around the room's walls and ceiling to the soft music of "Somewhere over the Rainbow".

The blond stepped to the cot and covered the sleeping baby.

_Draco wondered, who would have thought of this – him being married with two children? The people he socialized with today certainly would not have expected it._

_It had been a strange relationship with Ron, at first. They couldn't deal with each other in a friendly manner, only in bed. It had been a love-hate-relationship for at least 13 months until Draco realized he cared for Ron, at first only very subtle things, like wanting to meet him more often than once or twice a week. Later the blond started inviting Ron for dinner and actually managed a civil conversation with him. After their relationship became known among there friends by accident_,_ there was no sense in denying the fact. Ron still tried to, but wasn't successful. There was still a long way to speak of love._

_A few months after they moved together in a cottage outside Edinburgh, Draco inherited a strange gift. A distant cousin had died, leaving behind the precious legacy. The question was would he accept or decline it._

_The legacy was a child – Luca. It wasn't an easy decision, but there was only one possible answer. _

_Suddenly, Draco had what he never expected or wanted – a family._

Draco turned to see the blue eyes of his son following him around. He went over to the four-year-old.

"Luca, what is wrong?" he asked. He couldn't help but be a little worried.

"Pa, I'm thirsty," Luca answered, but it was obviously not the only reason for him being up.

Draco transfigured the cold tea in the pot beside the bed into hot milk with honey and poured some into Luca's cup.

"Thanks." the little boy said, drinking the warm liquid gratefully. After setting the cup down he looked at his father with expecting eyes.

"What is it you want?" Draco asked amused.

"Has St. Nick been here already?" the child asked eagerly.

"Mmmm, I don't know, but wouldn't we have heard him sliding down the chimney with your fire engine?" Draco knew the next question Luca would ask, and he knew that was defeated, he couldn't deny his son anything.

"Pa, can I come with you to the living room – I know Daddy is there, too, waiting for his new broom. Do you think he'll let me ride it?"

"Oh no, I don't think so, but I am sure he'll take you with him." He picked Luca, who was clutching his teddy bear, up and carried him to the old "couch turned into a bed" in front of the fireplace in the living room. Draco hoped his son wouldn't demand him to put out the fire, in case Father Christmas feared it. He dropped child onto his side of the bed, but Luca jumped onto the chest of his Daddy.

"Ooof, Draco, get off, it's the middle of – Luca baby, come here Sweetie." Draco could only shake his head, for him it was the middle of the night, but for the kids it never was too early or too late.

Draco left for his office and returned with three packages – he placed them under the Christmas tree, next to the box, stating "Merry Christmas, Draco", his own presents being labelled "Luca" and "Anna" as well as the broom-shaped parcel with "Ron" written on the tag.

…and tomorrow, the four Malfoys would also receive another set of Weasley sweaters…


End file.
